


Spider

by starwarned



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Getting Together, Hair, Kissing, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Simon Snow, Pining Simon Snow, Roommates, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25441324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Baz is distracting Simon during class.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 23
Kudos: 245





	Spider

**Author's Note:**

> this is for my gf because she says that as someone who identifies with Simon way more than with Baz, I sure write a lot from Baz's pov. here's some Simon pov for you

Baz and I are assigned to work together in Greek. He still won’t say a fucking word to me about where he’s been for the first  _ two months  _ of school, but at this point, I’m not expecting him to divulge all his secrets to me. 

It’s been a week and a half since Baz  **Open Sesame** -d the doors to the dining hall (like the bloody prick he is) and he still has barely said more than three words to me. (Those three words were “Hurry up, Snow” when I was taking too long to change.) 

It’s really difficult for me to focus in class, especially with Baz sitting so close to me and filling my senses with the smell of his hair products. It smells familiar and vaguely comforting, I can’t deny, but  _ Merlin _ , it’s distracting. It’s already hard for me to focus in classes when Baz and I are sitting across the room and he’s shooting sneers in my direction, so this is a lot worse. Having him so close is ruining my ability to conjugate verbs. (At least, I can blame him for that).

I keep getting distracted by Baz brushing his hair out of his face as he stares down at his already-finished work. He’s been passing the time by writing out insults in the corner of the paper and subtly sliding them over to me so I can acknowledge them. They’re all harmless, but it’s annoying that I can’t even divert all my attention to my work because Baz’s fingers are so entertaining, gracefully sliding over the page with the pen in his hand. 

Eventually, he fills up the whole corner of his page so he can’t fit any other snarky quotes towards me there. He gets tired of bothering me and instead focuses his efforts on spelling Niall’s chair to shrink a few centimeters shorter every time he shifts around. I can’t help but smile at Niall not noticing until Baz has been fucking with him for ten minutes. Niall shoots Baz a dirty glare once he figures it out. 

I make a little bit more progress on my conjugations before I’m distracted,  _ once again _ , by Baz’s fucking hair. It seems to have a life of its own. But as soon as I turn my head enough to look at it directly, I realize that there’s a spider in his hair. 

I try to remain calm, for Baz’s sake. Baz is the most put together and graceful person I’ve ever met, but memories of the time that a spider crawled onto his notebook in our room come flooding back to me (Baz screaming that he’s “fine with spiders except when they’re in  _ my space _ ”, him flailing his book around enough that the spider was thrown off of it and onto the floor near his feet, and me finally offering to scoop it up and take it outside). I remember asking him if he couldn’t have just cast a disappearing spell. He refused to even dignify my question with a response. 

I decide the best way to take care of this is just to reach over and very casually brush it out of his hair. As I lean back a little bit in my seat, I raise my hand behind Baz’s chair and slowly reach up towards his hair. The spider is just at the back of his head, near the ends of his hair (how the hell did it get there?), so I press my fingers very lightly against his hair above where the spider is. 

Baz surprises me. He leans slightly into my touch. 

My eyes widen and I’m not sure what to do. My fingertips are barely touching Baz’s head, just above the spider, and he’s pushing his head into my hand. Is he enjoying this? It’s terrifying. I peek around and discover that his eyes are closed. Shit. He likes this. 

I flick my fingers down quickly in his hair, the spider slipping out and onto the floor just behind his chair. Now I’m stuck in the very uncomfortable situation where moving my fingers led to my hand being even further embedded in his hair. Baz presses his head back against my palm. 

I let him. Not only do I fucking  _ let  _ him, but I press my hand further into his hair so my palm is flush against his scalp and my fingers splay through his hair. His hair is just what I’ve imagined it being - soft and sleek and perfect. 

I’m sure I’m blushing like a moron, but the second Niall starts to turn around in his chair to say something to Baz, I tug my hand out of his hair and drop it straight down to my side. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Baz cooly run his hand through his hair (where mine just was) as he answers Niall’s question. 

The moment that class is over, I  _ sprint  _ back to Mummer’s House. 

I shut the door behind me and take three seconds to make sure that Baz didn’t somehow beat me there before throwing myself onto my bed. I tuck my head onto my pillow and kick off my shoes (making sure they land on my side of the room because even though I just had a very weird moment with Baz, he’ll still kick my arse if I cross that line). 

I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but I know that I can’t stop remembering the feeling of Baz’s hair in my fingers and wanting to feel it again. I wish I had taken the moment to memorize it because who knows when I’m going to get that chance again. Knowing Baz, he’ll probably come up and murder me so I won’t even get a chance to  _ look  _ at his hair again, let alone run my hands through it. 

The door opens and closes. I keep my face pressed into my pillow. I have a hope that it’s Penelope coming to steal me away, but by the intense silence that accompanies the new person, I know it’s Baz bloody Grimm-Pitch. 

I listen for the familiar sounds of Baz taking off his shoes, tucking them next to the wardrobe, loosening his tie, and taking off his jacket to hang it up. Even if I didn’t have the aural clues, I have his routine memorized. He’s predictable. 

Normally, Baz’s next step would be to sit down on the edge of his bed and ruffle through his schoolwork to figure out what’s most pressing for him to work on right then. I know something’s off when I don’t hear the slight squeak of the springs of Baz sitting down on his bed. Instead, I turn my head away from the pillow to find Baz crouched on the floor next to my bed. I flinch back a little bit before sitting up. Baz straightens up. 

I can tell Baz has something to say so I wait for him to start. I feel like if I say anything first, I’ll end up making a fool of myself. 

Baz puts his hands in his pockets and takes a step back so he’s not so close to me. “Did you start on the Greek homework?” 

I blink a little bit, taken aback. I had mentally prepared myself for him to yell at me. “No,” I say. “I’m not a glutton for punishment.” 

Baz looks at me and raises an eyebrow, but he easily turns around and goes to his side of the room, sorting through his bag for said Greek work. 

“Are we not going to talk about what happened?” I blurt out before being able to stop myself. 

Baz is cool as ever. “Talk about what?” 

I roll my eyes. “What happened in class, Baz.” I don’t know why Baz ignoring it is especially bothering me today. He ignores me all the time. I should be used to it.

Baz pauses a little bit, but if I didn’t know him so well, I wouldn’t have noticed it. He doesn’t say anything, just straightens up with his notebook in hand. He sets his book down on the bed and comes back over to me. By the time he’s to me, I’m already standing up, ready to argue with him. 

“Why are you so worked up over this?” Baz asks, snarkily. “You’re the one who put your dirty fingers in my hair.” 

I gape at him. “You certainly didn’t stop me.” 

“I didn’t think I’d have to tell you to get your hands off of me.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Baz was blushing a little bit. We both know he didn’t even try to push me off.

“There was a spider in your hair!” I yell. 

Baz’s eyes get bigger. He reaches up to the back of his head as if I’d just told him I sliced off the back half of his hair. 

I sigh a little bit and explain. My skin feels hot and flushed. “There was a spider in your hair and I know how you are around spiders-” 

“What do you mean how I am around-”

I cut him off. “Shut up, Baz. I was trying not to freak you out so I was going to just brush it off. Then you-” I pause and huff a little. “You  _ liked  _ it.” My voice is softer than I could have hoped for, but I’m not sure what else to say to him. 

“I did not,” Baz insists. I can tell when he’s lying. 

My confidence comes back in full force. “You did,” I say. I feel bolder than before so I take a step forward into his personal space. “I was fucking  _ playing  _ with your hair and you enjoyed it.” That’s an extreme exaggeration, but I’m not going to take it back.

Baz doesn’t say a word. 

I bravely reach up and hold my breath as I touch my fingertips to the pieces of his hair that are falling into his face. I tug gently on a strand before tucking it back behind his ear. I’m testing the waters carefully and push my hand into his hair, threading my fingers through it and pressing my palm against the side of his head. 

Baz can’t hide the upturning of his mouth from me, even if it’s barely noticeable. 

“There’s not a spider this time,” I breathe. I don’t know when our faces got so close together. 

Baz allows himself to press his head gently into my palm. “Figured,” he breathes, leaning a bit forward. 

I kiss him. 

I can’t say I’d ever thought about kissing him before, but I can say that having my hand in his hair feels  _ right  _ and that his mouth against mine is life-changing. It’s a short kiss. Neither of us open our mouths that much before Baz is pulling away and tugging out of my grasp completely, my hand sliding out of his hair. (That’s how fucking smooth it is. No tangles for my fingers to get caught on). 

Baz looks horrified. It’s an emotion I’ve never seen register on his face and I don’t particularly care to ever see it again. In taking his step back, he’s effectively knocked me off my confidence trip and I am now prepared to be spelled or punched or be thrown down the stairs (again). 

I immediately dive into an apology. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” I pause, trying to gauge a reaction. Nothing. I continue, “I read the signs wrong-” 

Baz lifts a hand, which effectively cuts me off. “It’s fine, Simon.” 

This is all new territory for me and I can’t identify how Baz feels about me kissing him. I can’t even identify how  _ I  _ feel about kissing him. 

I don’t say anything else. It’s definitively past the time that would be appropriate for Baz to kiss me back if he was interested and not completely disgusted by my actions. I have dramatically ruined the not-friendly-but-not- _ this _ -awkward atmosphere that our room previously consisted of. I drop my eyes from Baz’s and walk into the bathroom as quickly as I can and shut the door behind me, holding on the doorknob for too long, just in case Baz tries to run in after me. It’s a stupid move, but it makes me feel better. 

I don’t even lock it. I just sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite from the doorway. I knock the back of my head against the wall and wallow in the sharp twinge of pain. 

As I ponder it longer, I don’t think I regret it. 

“Simon?” Baz knocks on the door. 

I don’t say anything as I tuck my knees up to my chest. 

He opens the door and hovers in the doorway for a moment. Before I can apologize  _ again  _ or continue to make a fool of myself with an excuse, Baz has crossed the small bathroom to kneel in front of me. 

I swear to Merlin and Morgan and Methuselah that I stop breathing when he puts his face close to mine. Baz slowly brings a hand up to my face, brushing it past my cheek, before sliding his fingers up into my hair. 

I understand why he pressed into my hand when I had it tangled in his hair. It feels really good. 

Baz makes deliberate eye contact with me before stretching forward to kiss me. And fuck, does he  _ kiss  _ me. His grip tightens in my curls and he licks into my mouth, chest pressing into the tops of my knees where they’re still tucked against my torso. 

I sigh against him and press up into his touch, reaching up to stabilize myself with a hand on one of his shoulders. I’ve never been kissed like this and it’s clear. Sure, Agatha and I snogged, but the way that Baz is reverently kissing me while still pushing against me like he’s scared I’ll disappear is  _ different _ (in a good way. In a very good way). I’m kissing him back with everything in me. 

Baz pulls back again and I flinch slightly at my brain’s implication that Baz believes he made another mistake. 

“I’m sorry,” Baz says, carding his fingers through the ends of my hair. It seems like he means it. 

I shrug, not sure what to answer with. I let my legs fall a little bit so they’re on either side of Baz’s knees. Baz doesn’t say anything either but lifts his other hand to carefully place it on my chest, rubbing at the fabric of my shirt. He’s still tousling my hair. 

“You liked it,” I say. Just confirming. 

Baz lets himself smile and it’s not antagonistic in the slightest. I don’t get see that very often. “I liked it,” he repeats. Confirming. 

I push my hand up into his hair now. I pay attention now to memorizing how it feels in my fingers. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> think I'm too obsessed with Baz's hair. I can't stop writing about it. how very Simon of me.
> 
> let me know what you think! comments are my lifeblood


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